Page 92 of Twisted Collide

She bites her lip, and her eyes look bottomless, vacant, and sad. “I also make you frown.”

I tilt my chin down, a small movement but an agreement. “You do.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t have you,” I admit. I’m not sure if it’s the darkness or the alcohol, but my tongue feels looser with my secrets. Her eyes go wide, clearly shocked that I’ve told her this.

Then she reaches out her hand to touch me. I shouldn’t let her. It makes me feel too much, but now that we have, I can’t find it in myself to push her off.

“Why can’t you have me?” Her voice is barely a rasp.

I want to laugh, but I don’t. The truth is too depressing. “You know why,” I grit out, my mouth dry like the desert.

Her features are hard, yet so soft. “My dad.”

“Among other things.”

Josephine’s eyes glide over my face, looking for answers. “Such as?” she asks.

“You deserve better.”

She gives me a small smile. “And here I think you’re perfect.”

I can’t look at her, so I turn away, focusing on a tree in thedistance. The leaves slowly sway in the wind. The sound almost calming. “You don’t know me,” I mutter. “Or the things I’ve done.”

“Then let me in.”

I frown. “I want to.”

“But?”

“But . . . I can’t.” I wouldn’t want to burden her with my secrets. “I’m fucked up.”

“Pot meet kettle. If you’re fucked up, what does that make me?”

I turn to face her. “Perfect.”

Her hand reaches up and twirls a lock of hair. “I’m hardly perfect.”

“To me, you are. You’re a perfect sunshine on a dark day.”

A soft smile plays across her face. “I thought I was Hellfire.”

That makes me laugh. “You’re that too.”

“Then why can’t we?” She puffs out her chest, a deliberate move to keep me from thinking straight.

It almost works. “I already told you—”

“My father . . .” She huffs. “Who cares about him? Not me.”

“I do,” I say. I want to tell her about my relationship with him, but something tells me it wouldn’t go over well right now, and to be honest, I’m so goddamn tired of pushing her away. I don’t want to now.

She leans into me. “He doesn’t have to know . . .”

I’m not sure if I’m just not in the right state of mind. Maybe it’s the booze, or perhaps it’s just her . . . maybe she’s cast a spell on me, but I can’t object.

I don’t want to.

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